


And We Fight for Roses Too

by WriteMeToHell



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Badass Sarah Jacobs (Newsies), Canon Era, Canon Jewish Character, Child Abuse, Child Labor, Class Differences, Class Issues, F/F, Female Jewish Character, Gen, It's the big lesbian AU you've always wanted, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), Labor Unions, Lesbian Character, Protests, Sweatshops, more characters will be added later on, newsbians, you just didn't know it yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-05-21 03:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteMeToHell/pseuds/WriteMeToHell
Summary: For Katherine, the plan was simple: Go undercover at one of Manhattan's many illegal sweatshops and write the expose that'll finally kick start her career as a big time reporter.The one thing she could've never planned for was a certain factory worker by the name of Sarah Jacobs.





	1. Chapter 1

“Jesus Christ Plumber, did you see today’s headline?” 

Bryan Denton slammed down the morning edition of New York World onto the desk of Katherine Pulitzer (but who’s asking) Plumber. She looked up from her typewriter and glared at the paper. 

“Denton, put that thing away! Dana will burst into flames if he sees that rag!” Katherine did her best to keep her tone hushed. The main office of The New York Sun was abuzz with the clacking of typewriter keys and the general lull of conversation, but Katherine wasn’t in the mood to any take risks. She was already on thin ice for this job as it was. 

“But did you see this headline?” Denton thrust the paper further so it landed on Katherine's lap. She bent over in her seat, trying to decipher the page from her lap.

“Trolley Workers Begin Strike for Fairer Wages…”

“No no no, the one under that, left corner.” Katherine squinted at the fuzzy ink letters.

“The American Dream: The Positive Effects of Work Experience for Immigrant Children and their Communities. An editorial by…” Katherine shrank back in her seat with a groan.

“...J. Pulitzer. Why are you showing me this again Denton?”

“Because it’s ridiculous. The guy’s practically signing up to be the next Simon Legree with the way these editorials keep going.”

“The man isn’t a paperback villain, he’s just a capitalist.” Katherine hated to defend her father, but it was a bit of a low blow for Denton to be the one to rub the salt into her longstanding wounds with her family, considering he was one of the few people who knew she was really a Pulitzer. Katherine loved Denton’s enthusiasm and their shared anger at any and all injustice, but sometimes he could hit a raw nerve. Like a morning reminder of just how awful her newspaper mogol of a father was. Before she even had her first coffee, no less. Katherine massaged the corners of her eyes, hoping if she looked bleary enough Denton would leave her alone until at least the mid afternoon.

“Listen Denton, I still need to finish up my write up for the Ladies’ Society Luncheon, do you think we could talk about this later? Maybe lunch? We’ll have plenty of time to complain about my God Awful father without Dana breathing down our neck.”

As if on cue Katherine and Denton heard the echo of a slamming door coming from the end of the hallway. The tell-tale sound of Loake brand loafers clattering against the hardwood floors of The New York Sun building was punctuated with a second slam announcing the entrance of head editor Paul Dana into general writers’ quarters. 

“C’mon men, the evening edition needs to be set by three, let’s shake a leg! Denton-” All eyes shot to Katherine’s desk. 

“-You can flirt with the girl later. I need that piece on the new sanitation system stat!”

In the periphery of Katherine’s view she could see Denton’s ears go pink. A few chuckles came from the desks around them. Denton cleared his throat and straightened his bowtie. 

“In a minute sir. I’ve got it all set to go.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it kid.” Dana was turning to leave when he paused again. 

“Oh, and Plumber?”

Now it was Katherine’s turn to blush.

“Y-yes sir?”

“You should be pin your hair to the side the next time you curl it. It looks nicer that way.” 

One final slam, and Katherine could feel her heart drop to her shins. Denton gave her a look of sympathy as she rested her head in the sling of her elbow. She didn’t bother looking at him while she spoke.

“Wanna make that lunch early?” 

Denton rested a hand on her shoulder. “How ‘bout 12:15, Jacobi’s? He’s got a discount on coffee today.”

Katherine straightened herself up again and began to reshuffle her notes.  “Great, we’ll both need it.”

* * *

“So please, explain to me again what mental gymnastics your father goes through to let his paper praise the trolley strikers on page one, then say child sweatshops are the next best thing since bagels and lox by page three?” 

Denton paused to take a long slip from his mug. They were sitting at one of the smaller booths at Jacobi’s, a small Jewish run deli located near the distribution center of the New York World. Recently it has been enjoying a spurt of popularity among reporters from the all major papers due to its cheap coffee, served along with a complimentary glass of water so that no one would get dehydrated. At first, Katherine had not been thrilled by the place due to its proximity to her father’s workplace. Not too mention the free water policy had also attracted a less scrupulous clientele, allowing any bum or newsie to lounge around the place and take away seats from actual paying customers. 

But eventually her need for cheap food and company wore out any predispositions she had about the place. Denton was the only reporter at The Sun willing to be her friend, having been introduced to her on her first day at the office by their mutual friend Darcy. The two men had met as freshman at Harvard- Darcy being there due to legacy and Denton through an academic scholarship. Katherine hadn’t been sure what to make of Denton at first, and was worried Darcy was trying to set them up on a date. But when she had asked Darcy about his intentions in bringing her and Denton together, he responded by bursting out into laughter.

“Oh Kath, no! It’s nothing like that at all! Listen, we-” He lowered his voice. “We met at a Oscar Wilde poetry reading, okay? Trust me, a man who enjoys Wilde is as likely to touch a woman as he is to read a Horatio Alger novel. You two will get along just fine.”

And Darcy had been right. While it had been odd for her at first to spend time with someone whose family wasn’t one of Ward McAlister’s 400 (Denton had been brought up on a farm in Buffalo), Katherine had realized that now, with her job and independent lifestyle, she no longer fit in with that set either. She and Denton both had a passion for social causes and drank way too much coffee. Denton never held the fact that she was a girl against her, and she in turn never thought less of  him for liking Oscar Wilde.

But with the rest of her colleagues there was no such luck. At best they ignored her; at worst they spread rumors and talked behind her back. The latest had been that Dana only hired her as a last ditch effort to make the paper appear more progressive. Putting the paper’s support next to a real radical issue like women’s suffrage was obviously out of the question, but having a girl reporter on the team might hint at it enough to gain readership among the more liberal crowd. That theory was a stretch even by Katherine’s standards.

The other women in the building weren’t much better. It had been only a few weeks into her new job when she was found waiting the hallway for Dana’s final edits on her flower show by one of the lobby secretaries. The girl, only a few years older than her, had paused as she walked by and stared directly into her eyes. Her expression was unreadable, her voice completely devoid of emotion. 

“I bet I could’ve been a girl reporter if I went to a ritzy college.”

Before Katherine could respond she had already left.

In the following weeks Katherine would play that interaction over and over again. Every potential answer she came up with in her head was never good enough. She began to notice the girls that lined the lobby of The Sun headquarters. Was the secretary right? Was the only thing keeping her from fetching coffee and organizing telegrams for a living was a degree from Barnard and a father who had more money than he knew what to do with? Katherine didn’t want to think about it. The men certainly weren’t asking themselves on the regular if they deserved to be here. Why should she?

“Plumber? Katherine?” Denton’s voice was bringing back to reality. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine Denton. Listen, about my father…”

Denton held up his hand in a symbol of peace. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought him up. I know how testy it’s been between you two for the past couple of years.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… I want to explain the child labor thing. He didn’t grow up rich either, you know? That’s why he’s so  blasé  about it. He doesn’t see the sweatshops as abuse, he sees it as character building.”

“But see, that’s where I’m confused. If he struggled so much as a kid, wouldn’t he want to help others? Kids that are going through the same things he had to deal with?”

Katherine raised her eyebrow and gave a tired smile. Denton was too good for this world sometimes.

“Hardship doesn’t always come with empathy Denton.”

Denton nodded sadly and dug into his brisket. Katherine cupped her cheek in the palm of her hand and looked over at Mister Jacobi serving a nearby table. She turned back to Denton and lowered her voice.

“Not to mention, my father’s got a whole lot more against him because of the whole J-E-W thing.”

“The J-E…? Oh, that’s right! I forget you’re Jewish!”

“Half Jewish. It doesn't count if it’s patrilineal. But that’s just another reason for my father to keep neutral on the whole labor business. The minute he goes to remotely left wing someone’s going to accuse him of controlling the media and brainwashing us all into a bunch of communists. The man’s got a lot riding on him. I’m not defending him, but...there’s a reason for why he does what he does.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you actually.” Denton finished his coffee in one final gulp and pushed aside his plate. 

“You mean we didn’t come here just to rant about dear old dad?” 

“Well, no... I mean, sort of. It’s just that, when I saw this-” He took his folded up copy of The World from the inside of his jacket and spread it out on the table. “-I knew this could be our big chance.”

Katherine leaned forward in her chair. “What are you talking about Denton?”

“Think about it; if The World keeps singing the praises of child labor again and again, it’s the perfect opportunity for The Sun to do a rebuttal. Set up a bunch of interviews, take pictures of the kids, let the people know what’s really going on in those sweatshops. With us working on it, it could be front page news! We get a story like that out and I’ll never have to visit another public toilet again! You won’t even have to look at a single flower if you don’t want to! It’ll be our big break!” 

Denton’s shoulders moved up and down with his belated breath, and he gestured enthusiastically as he talked. He looked like an overgrown child at Christmas. 

“It’ll be your big break, Denton.” Katherine sighed and half heartedly poked her danish with her fork. “Even if we split the work fifty-fifty, they’ll still probably see me as your assistant, or your typist, or-”

“Oh no, Kath, it wouldn’t be like that at all. I promise, if your name isn’t mentioned on the top of the page, we’ll rescind the piece.”

“I know you can promise that, but Dana sure as hell can’t. Not too mention how are we going to find a sweatshop that’s willing to let us in? Kids that’ll want to do interviews with us? We‘d look pretty suspicious just walking into factory, even if we made up a good excuse for it. Much less with a whole camera.”

“So, we’ll get an inside source. Someone who knows the kids and can get them to trust us.”

“Do you know anyone like that?”

“Well, I…”

“Because I know I sure as hell don’t. I grew up on Park Avenue, Denton. You grew up on a farm. Have you ever been inside a factory before?”

Denton squirmed in his seat. “Well, there was this old mill about three miles from my house…”

Katherine sighed and looked down at her plate. “Listen, I love your enthusiasm, I really do. But the only possible we could do a story like this is if one of us were to...I don’t know, go undercover or….”

Katherine stopped in the middle of her thought. That was it. She felt awake all of a sudden, like someone had finally turned on the lights and she could now see the whole picture. 

“Oh God.”

Denton was still looking morosely down at the paper.“What?”

“I know what our inside source is gonna be.”

“Who?”

For the first time that day, Katherine gave a genuine smile.

“Me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I remember being this fandom back in like, 2009, and feeling disappointed that all the fanfiction essentially either ignored the character of Sarah or only used her as a barrier between the true romances of Jack/Davey or Jack/Race or whomever it was this week. Then when the musical came out I was super miffed that they had cut her out entirely and replaced her with Katherine, because God forbid we have more than two female characters in this cockfest of a show (poor Medda is barely acknowledged most of the time). It wasn't until watching the live version and rediscovering the fandom on tumblr that I found people were not only now including Sarah, they were embracing her! And I totally wanted in!
> 
> This chapter is mostly set up for the main plot, to get into the head of Katherine and establish the stakes. I promise Sarah's gonna appear by the next chapter.
> 
> The title comes from the popular union song "Bread and Roses"
> 
> I've also got a tumblr which basically just me reblogging newsies gifs into the abyss (but I do have followers that aren't porn bots now so that's nice) https://www.tumblr.com/blog/writemetohell 
> 
> Comments, as always, make my day <3 <3 <3


	2. Chapter 2

_What the hell was she doing here?_

The question had struck Katherine several times in the last few weeks as she and Denton prepared for this very moment. But now that she was actually here, at the front door of what must be the sleaziest looking glove factory this side of Lower Manhattan, it now echoed in her head louder than ever.

_What the hell was she doing here?_

Katherine Pulitzer was never afraid to be a trailblazer. Going to college at sixteen was not in her parent’s plan for her. Neither was starting her own reporting career, completely devoid of any help from her father’s influence.

 But this, this was a different animal all together. This was not her comfort zone. There was no safety net for her here, no sorority sisters to get her out of a bind or mother’s shoulder to cry on when things went wrong. With the exception of Denton, no one knew where she was.

For the first time in her life she was completely alone.

She stood frozen in place as a group of half drowsy workers meandered into the small courtyard and through the open doors. Most moved easily out of her way. It was until a good three minutes into Katherine’s staring contest she felt a shove to her left shoulder.

“Hey new girl! You coming inside?”

Her perpetrator’s voice had a slight accent to it. She was a solid looking girl with a head of thick dark hair, piled in a loose knot on the top of her head. She also couldn’t have been older than fifteen.

“Um, actually, do you know where the foreman’s office is? I want to, um… speak to him…”

Katherine’s voice wavered the more she talked. By this rate she’d be outed as a spy in less than ten minutes.

The girl gave her a slightly bemused looked. Then she sighed and held out her hand.

“You’ll want to see Frank. I’ll warn you though, I don’t know what kind of mood he’ll be in today.”

Before she could say thanks, Katherine was grabbed roughly by the wrist pulled through the front doors. As the air grew heavy with dust and darkness fell over her vision, Katherine could feel her heart pounding through her chest.

_What the hell was she doing here?_

* * *

 

“Name?”

“Uh, Katie. Katie Siegel.”

Katie, because it would be easier to respond to a shortened version of her own name. Siegel, because it was a common enough surname in the area to not attract attention. Katie Siegel, like Katherine Pulitzer, was going to be a first generation American.

“Age?”

“Eighteen.”

No use in lying about that. Though it was startling to see just how many of the other workers were younger than her.

The man called Frank quickly jotted something down in a yellow paged notebook with a broken binder. He was a lean man with a shaved head, wearing only a stained undershirt with his suspenders. He held out a pen for Katherine to sign on the dotted line.

“If you brought your own apron and scissors you can begin today. I know at other shops they provide those types of things, but we don’t give handouts here. The pay starts at three dollars a week. Shayna-”

The girl that had brought Katherine looked up in surprise.

“-bring Katie with you to table four. She can start at the empty spot there.”

“But that’s-” Shayna lowered her voice to a whisper. “-that’s supposed to be Chava’s spot.”

Frank looked unimpressed. “And is Chava here?”

Shayna looked down at her feet. “No sir.”

“Then you better show Katie where her seat is at table four. Now.”

Shayna bit her lower lip as Frank swung back around in his chair. Without meeting her in the eye, she once again grabbed Katherine’s wrist and led out of the office, quietly shutting the down behind them.

Katherine’s first test was complete.

She didn’t feel nearly as relieved as she should be.

* * *

The interior of the factory was a claustrophobe’s nightmare. The walls, the floors, the ceiling; they all seemed to be pulled to the center by a magnetic force, threatening to collapse in on itself at any time.

The only natural light came from a small panel window stuck in the upper right corner in the room that looked like it hadn’t been washed for at least a decade. The rest was supplied by a few oil lamps scattered amongst the girls to fight over. It gave the place a grayish tone; everything from the pitch-black paint jobs of the Singer sewing machines to the workers own faces looked muted and dull.

A dozen or so tables were scattered throughout the room, each seating four to five sewing machines. Workers, all girls, aged anywhere from twenty-five to twelve huddled over their machines in tight groups, each table its own island. Everyone’s hair was pinned up and out of their faces. It made Katherine’s own long curls seem childish in comparison.

Shayna took Katherine over to a table settled off to the left-hand corner. Two girls were already sitting there, completely enraptured in their work. She pointed to one of the unused chairs and Katherine gently sat down, hoping to attract as little attention as possible.

“That’s Chava’s place.” _Great_.

The speaker was a petite girl with owlish spectacles, her light brown hair tied in braids and pinned onto the top of her head.

“Well, Frank says it's her place now.” Shayna had taken her own seat at the other end of the table.

“And who’s _her_?” This time it was the other girl; lanky, with freckles and a shock of red hair twisted in a tight knot at the nape of her neck.

Katherine tried to grin. She desperately needed to make a good first impression. What did her finishing school teacher always say? An open face leads to an open heart? It couldn’t hurt to try.

Katherine tried to broaden her smile as she leaned over the table, her arm extended for a handshake.

“I’m Katie!”

The redhead rolled her eyes.

“Of course you are.”

Katherine felt her ear turn pink as she retracted her arm. She felt so embarrassed it was almost a relief when the office door slammed open, announcing Frank’s presence.

“Alright ladies, it’s Tuesday and we’re already twenty behind on the order. It’s due next week, seven days, can you understand that? You want to leave here while the sun’s still up? I better see some damn results. I’m gonna need you to be more like Hannah here-” At this he gestured to a young girl a few seats away. She ducked down her head in embarrassment. Katherine wondered how old she was. Fifteen? Thirteen? They could run a primary school in here.

“-She’s gonna be our pace setter for the day. How many she gets done, you blind monkeys are gonna at least have to break even.” He turned around to go back into his office, turning head around as his hand rested on the door frame

“And remember ladies, working comes before socializing. This isn’t a tea party.”

One final slam and he was gone.

* * *

 Four weeks ago Katherine did not know how to make a glove.

Hell, four weeks ago she barely knew how to sew at all, unless you counted some truly abysmal embroidery outlining 1 Corinthians:4-8. And Katherine certainly didn’t.

It was only thanks to Denton’s aunt, a window residing in the south Bronx, who taught her the ins and outs of sewing. This factory made a knockoff brand of the current popular style of women’s outdoor gloves, sold for half the price. They were beige colored, cut from a material that at least felt like suede, and fitted with buttons that ran from the wrist to halfway down the forearm. Denton had given the Katherine and his aunt a copy of what they needed to make, and the two of them had spent the last four weeks laboriously going through motions of proper glove making until Katherine had made something that was almost a perfect replica of the glove Denton had given her.

This would be her second test.

Katherine took a swatch of brown fabric from the pile at the center of the table. She was surprised to see that the shape of the glove had already been cut out, with two long hand outlines spread one on top of the other. It was like they had already skipped a whole step in the production. Bizarre, but one less step for her to do at least.

Using the machine, she sewed the sides together, then started to place the fingers together to be sewn individually. All that was left to do was connect the two sides, cut the center of the sleeve for an opening, then sew buttons onto the break and add holes on the other side to make an easy on and off experience.

Good. Easy. Should be fine. Should be just _fine._

She began to put the glove’ pinky under the needle.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Redhead again. What was her deal? Katherine looked up from her work and saw that the other girls staring at her.

“...Making a glove?”

Redhead rolled her eyes.

“We don’t make the whole glove dummy. Our table just does the inline seams. Haven’t you ever done this job before?”

“Oh, um...no. I mean, yes, I have done this before, but um…

Redhead turned to Shayna accusingly. “Did Frank ask her if she’d ever worked in a factory before?”

The younger girl shook her head in response. Redhead rolled her eyes for the third time that morning. Katherine wondered if they ever came down.

“Of course he didn’t. Typical Frank, always whining to us about how our inventory is down, then goes and hires the first greenhorn who’s got a noticeable bosom. If he’s expecting us to teach her and finish the delivery by next week, he’s got another thing coming, let me tell you-”

“Not even eight in the morning and Rachel Cohen’s already whining? Why am I not surprised?”

Redhead sat up a little straighter in her seat and smirked. “Well as sure as the day I was born, Sarah Jacobs has finally graced us with her presence.”

Katherine turned to see the silhouette of a new girl leaning up against the factory’s open door, allowing a stream of light to break through the factory’s gray. A large wicker basket was pressed against the side of her hip, and her hair was done up in the Gibson Girl style; piled loosely at the top with a few strands hanging free to frame her face. Sarah closed the door behind her, and Katherine had to blink a few times to readjust her vision. Was her heart pounding again? It definitely felt like her heart was pounding. But this completely different feeling than before.

Sarah Jacobs handed her wicker basket to one of the nearby tables then plopped down on the one remaining seat at table four.

“Good morning to you too Rach. It’s good to know you keep waking up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Before Rachel could barb back Sarah turned in her seat and called over to table where her basket rested.

“Pass those around to table six, there’s enough lace in there for at least two hundred gloves! That’s authentic Polish lace, girls, don’t mess it up with your grubby little hands!”

Even in the dull light Katherine could make out the distinctions in Sarah’s features. Like her brown eyes. Or her high cheekbones. Or the cute dipple that formed on her left cheek when she smiled. Katherine didn’t want to stare. It had been drilled into her since day one that it was rude to stare. But there was a part of her that just couldn’t look away.

Spectacles pointed to the large clock that hung over the back wall.

“You’re fifteen minutes late Sarah.”

“So? I’m part time.”

Shayna scrunched up her face in confusion. “Part time? What does this mean?”

“It means she can come in late and Frank will look the other way.” Rachel was now smirking. Katherine resisted the urge to slap her.

“Frank looks the other way because I live with the best lace maker this side of Hester Street.” She turned to Rebecca and smiled gently. “Part time just means I have shorter hours than the other workers. Like _teyl mol_.”

Katherine wondered what language that was. Yiddish? Crap, was she supposed to know Yiddish? She almost didn’t notice Sarah was now staring at her.

“So, I guess you’re the new Chava, huh?”

Spectacles frowned. “We don’t need a new Chava. Our Chava is the only Chava that matters. Katie’s just here to fill in while she’s gone.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Katie? That sounds like a goy name. Did Ellis Island mangle your birth certificate or what?”

“My full name is Katherine.” She immediately regretted it after she said it. “Katherine _Siegel_.” She hoped the emphasis on her very Jewish last name would ward off any suspicion.

“Katherine. Kath-rine.” Sarah lulled over the name slowly and deliberately, like she was tasting it in her mouth. “That’s either Irish or WASP. And you don’t look either. No offense.”

Katherine shrugged and started on another glove (this time not going past the inline seam).

“My family wanted us to have American sounding names.”

That was actually true. It amazed Katherine how much she was getting by on only half lies. She was really playing with fire at this point.

Sarah gave an understanding nod. “My mom wanted us kids to have American names too. She thought it would make things easier for us. But our dad gets so traditional about some things. She finally got her way when she had my youngest brother. She was so thrilled, she gave him the most American name she could think of!”

Shayna leaned in. “And what was that?”

“Lester!”

The table burst out into laughter.

Katherine couldn’t help but speak up. “How did she think of a name like Lester?”

Sarah shrugged. “I think she found it in a Ladies Home Journal article. She used to read it all the time back when she was still learning English. He goes by Les though. Call him Lester and you’re sure to get a kick to the shin. When we speak Yiddish sometimes we call him _Lemmel_.”

Shayna smiled. “I knew a Lemmel back in Krakow. Nice old man. Used to sell us eggs every market day.”

Rachel snorted into her sewing. “You say about everyone back in Krakow. _‘Nice old man, nice little baby, nice tree, nice dead chicken, nice latrine...’_ ”

The girls all laughed at Rachel’s perfect imitation of Shayna’s inflection. Even Shayna seemed to take the imitation in stride.

“Well, it’s true. There were many nice things back home. Just...not most of the time. So you just think more about the things that are nice.”

“I like that Shayna, you have such a lovely outlook on life. Certain people could use more of that, don’t you think Rachel?” Sarah looked over at the redhead with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t put the blame on me. New girl over there apparently has never worked in a factory before.”

“So? Two and a half years ago I’d never worked in a factory either. We were all new once Rachel, even you.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “She tried to sew the whole glove.”

“Well, did you tell her what she was supposed to do?”

Rachel looked the others and shrugged her shoulders. It was now Sarah’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

The table went quiet for a while after that.

* * *

By midday Katherine’s hands were cramping.

No, that wasn’t the right word for it. Cramping was what happened when she held a pen for too long or was hunched over her typewriter for hours trying to finish the latest vaudeville review.

This pain was an entirely different animal.

There was a noticeable shudder to her hands as she tried to open her tin lunch pail (a donation from Denton’s school days). After a five hour morning shift, the girls were allotted a fifteen lunch break. Since no food was allowed near the merchandise, everyone filed out of the building and stood in small groups, talking quietly while trying to heaven down as much lunch as possible. Eating while standing up was not a task Katherine had expected to learn how to master. Biting down on her apple with a shaky hand, she listened in as Rebecca (as she found out the spectacles girl was called), describe her sister’s upcoming wedding.

“...Mama says she can use her old wedding dress, but Goldie’s been saying she wants to make her own.”

Rachel nodded. “I don’t blame her. If someone put me in some mildew-y getup from the seventies I’d want to make my own dress too. And isn’t Goldie a head taller than your mom?”

“Mama says we can just add extra fabric to the bottom, but we haven’t been able to find anything that matches yet. They’ve been arguing about it for weeks…”

Something felt wrong to Katherine. It was a gut instinct, like a rabbit being circled by a hawk.  She peered over Rebecca’s shoulder and saw a man, about ten years her senior, standing nearby. He was staring at the girls intently.

“Uh, Rebecca? Do you know that man?”

Rebecca looked over her shoulder then turned back to the group. “Oh, that’s just Ned. He’s the afternoon foreman. He’s Frank’s friend.”

“But why is he staring at us?”

“That’s just part of their job. They watch us to make sure we don’t goof off during our breaks. Frank does it too, see?”

Sure enough Frank was also standing in the courtyard, his eyes focused in on Hannah, the so called ‘pacemaker’. In the natural light she looked even younger, closer to twelve than fifteen.

“But don’t you think that’s a little odd? I mean, Frank looks like he’s pushing forty. It isn’t really proper for a man to be staring at a young girl like that.”

“It’s not?”

There was an awkward silence where Katherine was met an array of facial expressions; Rebecca and Shayna appeared confused, while Rachel looked furious. Sarah simply averted her eyes.

Rachel suddenly slammed the top of her own lunch tin. “Well, I’ve just lost my appetite. I better start getting back to work, someone’s gonna have to make up for all the missteps Katie’s caused today. You coming girls?”

She then stormed off, followed dutifully by Rebecca and then Shayna, who kept looking forlornly back at the dispersed group. Now only Sarah and Katherine were left.

“Listen,” Despite the fact that they were standing in a pretty loud courtyard, Sarah was keeping her voice low. “It’s better if you don’t bring up those kinds of thing in front of Rachel. Just try to stay on the good side of Frank and his friends and you should be fine, yeah?"

Before Katherine could respond a sharp whistle rang out into the courtyard. Lunch break was now over. Sarah had already left her side, joining the mass of girls trying to make their way back into the building.

Katherine hadn’t even finished her apple.

* * *

It was now eight hours into the work day. Katherine’s head felt fuzzy; the dust in the air seemed to swirl around her, the sound of the machines seemed to clatter incessantly in her ear, her arms and shoulder felt beyond use. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore, if she was even going through the right motions. How many hours were left in her shift? Three? Five? An eternity?

She felt faint. Her head was like a rock on the edge of a cliff; tilting precariously and threatening to keel over at any moment. Maybe it was because of the hunger. Or the lack of air. Or the fact she had been doing the same monotonous task over and over again. No human body was made to be worked like this. But if her new coworkers were feeling the same fatigue they sure weren’t showing it. They kept up an almost rhythmic pace, seam after seam after seam. Katherine wondered if this was a bit like being a long distance runner; if you keep up the same pace for long enough, your body becomes used to it and doesn’t cramp as often.

But then again, long distance runner usually stretched before a big race. And they ate too.

 _Denton better be good at giving back massages_ , Katherine thought as she grabbed another fabric outline to be sewn together. She wondered if there’d be a way to conspicuously finish her apple without anyone noticing when her hand suddenly slipped. Her fingers got lost under the fabric and she tried to slip them out but she was just so tired and-

Crack!

Katherine felt a sharp, stinging pain coming from her fingers. The cheap needle on the machine had broken off and was laying forlornly on the table beside her. The half made glove, still stuck on her aching hand was now splotching red. Black spots began showing up in her vision. Oh God, she was going to be sick....

Katherine slowly began to stand up her body swaying precariously as she tried to regain her balance. The others looked up from their work.

“Katie, are you okay?” Was that Sarah? She hoped that was Sarah.

“I need some air. There’s an outhouse in the back, right?”

“You can’t just leave in the middle of work! They’ll sack you for it!” Rachel, probably. God, who peed in that girl’s coffee?

“You don’t understand, I need to leave, I…” Katherine held up her injured hand, now free of its makeshift glove. Her middle and ring finger were slashed through the middle, blood seeping from the cut. Her free hand clung to the back of her chair for balance.

Rebecca gasped. “Oh no, this is just like Chava. We need to get her help now!”

“Don’t go making a big fuss about this, Frank might see!” But even Rachel looked disturbed by Katherine’s hand.

Rebecca now looked like she was about to cry. “I don’t care if Frank sees! She gotta get help, she gotta get help now!”

A slam suddenly came from the opposite end and the room fell into a hush. Frank was leaning on his office door, a newspaper rolled in one hand.

“Ladies, do we have a problem out here?”

Shayna quickly stood up and began shaking her head fervently. “No Frank, no problem at all. Katie’s just having a little hard time adjusting.”  

Ain’t that the understatement of the century.

“Well make sure she starts adjusting soon, or whatever she can’t get done will come out of your pay. Can you understand that ladies? Or should I say it again in yid?”

All eyes were now on Katherine. This could not be how this ends for her, destroying all her chances of big time journalism on her first day undercover. She just had to find a way to get through this, she just had to...

She suddenly felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Her body steadied under its grip.

“I’ll finish whatever Katie can’t.”

Sarah Jacobs. Katherine had only known this girl for eight hours, yet she could practically kiss her on the cheek by this point. With how close they were standing to each other, she technically could do just that. Sarah whispered in her ear.

“My shift’s over. Come with me and I’ll bandage you up in the back.”

* * *

Sarah’s wicker basket had been turned upside down. It made for a pretty good seat, Katherine thought. She had taken her to the back of the building, which housed a rusty water pump and an outhouse with a broken door hinge. Sarah put Katherine’s bloody hand under the pump and let the metallic, lukewarm water flow over it. After the wound was clean she ripped off a piece of her apron and began to wind it around Katherine’s damaged fingers.

“Keep this on for about three days or so, that’ll give it enough time to do some mending. After that you should change the bandage. It’ll probably heal in a month or so.”

“Do you think I should see a doctor?” Katherine’s head still felt woozy.

Sarah snorted. “What would a doctor do? Give you some cheap linens and over charge you for it? Doctors are for emergencies, and even then they’re pretty unhelpful. Have you ever been to a hospital?”

Katherine in fact had been to a hospital. A private one, after she had gotten her tonsils removed. But Katie Siegel had probably hadn’t. She shook her head.

Sarah made a face. “Good. They’re the absolute worst. We had to go to one a few years when my brother David got meningitis. It was awful. There were twenty people to a room, and everything smelled like bedpan. Oh, and they charged us so much money, it was ridiculous. We were behind our rent for weeks after that.”

Sarah leaned down to help Katherine back up. She picked up her basket and placed it back on her hip. It took Katherine a second to realize that the two of them were still holding hands. Sarah seemed to notice it too, as a blush crept across her face and she gently yanked hers away. She started to head toward the side alleyway.

“Remember, no hospitals. If that thing gets worse, just come to me. Oh, and Katie?”

The fuzziness in Katherine’s brain ceased for a brief second at the mention of her fake name.

“…yes?”

“What do you do to get your hands so soft? I’d die to get palms like that. Almost feels like you never worked a day in your life.”

Katherine went back into the factory on a cloud. She was the lightest she had felt all day. It suddenly didn’t matter that her hand was bandaged for an undeterrable amount of time, or that her stomach still ached from hunger, or that the other girls hated her, or that this horror show was going to be her life for the next two months.

Sarah Jacobs thought her hands were soft. Soft enough to have never worked a day in their life.

If Katherine played her cards right, she’d never know how close she was to the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I was not expecting to get such a positive response for that first chapter. You guys rock, I can't express what all your wonderful comments mean to me. 
> 
> I'm gonna try my best to get on a decent schedule, but with the way my ADHD has been treating me lately, it's gonna be a tough process. Just know I'm writing up chapter three now, and want to have it out by the middle of August. 
> 
> I don't know shit about sewing (I hope it's not too obvious) and this chapter required a LOT of research in order to remain somewhat realistic. I used one book in particular, Kids on Strike! by Susan Campbell Bartoletti, to get the feel of what every day life was like for the young women who worked in the textile industry. I really encourage you to check it out, it's aimed at kids so it's a pretty quick read, and there's a whole chapter on our beloved Newsies Strike of 1899! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/187755.Kids_On_Strike_
> 
> But yeah, first day on the job and Katherine's already crushing hard. Pretty sure Nellie Bly never had to deal with romance while undercover <3<3 <3
> 
> Comments are always awesome <3


	3. Chapter 3

“So... what do you think?”

Denton was giving Katherine _That Look_. That sad, nervous, puppy dog eyes look that asked, _‘You’re not mad at me, right?’_. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he was rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, a habit he always fell back into whenever he was nervous. Katherine sighed and rubbed his shoulder affectionately.

“The apartment’s wonderful, Bryan. Really”

And technically, it was. It was certainly a step up from the glove factory. It was clean, for one thing. And it didn’t smell like dust and armpit sweat. Sure, it was small, but not small enough for two adults to live there somewhat comfortably, especially since there were two rooms. Well, technically one doubled as the kitchen, but there were two beds so that she and Denton wouldn’t have to share, and-

It was bizarre, Katherine realized, how much she was defending this shitty tenement apartment in the one of the seedier neighborhoods of Lower Manhattan. It was amazing what a few days in a sweatshop could do to your standard of living.

Her mind was still in a blur. The last three days had been miserably interchangeable; Katherine got up too early, went to bed too late, and in the interim dealt with backbreaking work along with the reserved kindness of Sarah and the aloof silence of the other girls. Payday couldn't come soon enough. And when it did, it was like leaning in for a kiss only to be struck with a slap.

“Forty-five cents! I’ve put in over nearly fifty hours of work for them and all they give me is forty-five lousy cents!”

“Calm down Katie, you’ve been here less than a week.” This was Rachel, of course, rolling her eyes for what must have been the fiftieth time that day. “You started Tuesday, of course they’re not going to pay you the full amount.”

“Not to mention you broke that needle on your first day, they probably took away money for that too.” Rebecca piped in.

“How could I forget.” Katherine mumbled to herself, rubbing her stinging, bandaged fingers.

Her new situation was not helped by the fact she had been squatting at Denton’s apartment since the experiment began. Staying at her own place on Park Avenue would really raise suspicions to a whole other level. But it was still a thirty minute trek to get from his place to the factory, and Katherine knew the girls were going to start talking soon if she didn’t show up with a legit address of her own.

So Denton started apartment hunting for the two of them. Their search had been quick, limiting themselves to places with running water and at least two rooms, and finally settled on a fourth floor residence of an only somewhat shabby tenement building in the center of the Lower East Side. The fact that it seemed to house mostly families there too seemed to comfort Katherine. For a girl who had never been downtown for more than a half hour at a time Katherine clung onto anything for comfort.

By early Friday evening she had almost finished unpacking. Denton was off for the night, covering a late-night politicians’ summit on the current Manhattan water supply. For the first time in what felt like ages, Katherine found herself completely alone; no Bryan, no chatty seamstresses, no creepy foreman. Just her and her thoughts (and the shouts of the people in the streets below). She took a deep breath and exhaled, rubbing her temples as she slid into a nearby chair. Maybe she could sit here for the rest of the night. Or maybe for all entirety. However long it took to make her feel like a real human being again. Eating, bathing, unpacking; all that could come later. She had a good twelve hours until her next shift, it wouldn’t hurt just to sit here and doze…

There was a sharp knock on the door. Katherine jumped out of her seat in surprise, knocking over her chair and banging her head on a light fixture in the process.

_"Hello? Is anyone home?”_

Crap. More Yiddish. She should have brought a dictionary before coming here.

_“I’m your new neighbor, I came to say hello.”_

The voice sounded young. And girlish. That was comforting at least. Katherine weighed her options- if she ignored the knocking, her neighbors would only grow suspicious. But if she answered she’d have to deal with a fluent Yiddish speaker, who was probably expecting the same of her. That would also raise suspicions.

The knocking wouldn’t stop. Finally, Katherine made a split-second decision and headed towards the door. She may have been completely unequipped for this situation, but if finishing school taught her anything, it was that rudeness was a lot worse than any language barrier. She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she almost jumped back in surprise when she finally opened the door.

There was Sarah Jacobs, hair free from its bun and flowing down her back, holding a ceramic container to her chest. Her fist was still in mid knock.

“ _Hello_ \- Katie? What are you doing here?”

Katherine shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. “I... live here.”

“Oh right… I should’ve figured that.”

There was an unsettling pause wherein the two girls stared at each other, unsure of what say next. Sarah ducked her head and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She looked

different with her hair down. Softer, younger. There was a small stream of late afternoon sunlight coming through the one dingy apartment window, and it fell gently onto the side of Sarah’s face. It was a nice effect, Katherine thought. She almost looks like a figure in a renaissance painting….

Katherine quickly shook the thought from her head. She did not need unnecessary emotions like this. Especially now.

“So, um...what do you have there?”

“Oh, this? My mom made it, it’s kugel. She got all excited when she found out someone finally moved into the old Feinstein place. Don’t worry, it’s kosher if you’re strict about those kinds of things. Mom decided it play it safe, cause, I mean, we only do it on holidays, it can get _so_ expensive, you know?  But there’s always extra for special occasions and things like that...I’m sorry, am I talking to much?”

Sarah blushed when she got embarrassed. It was very cute.

“Oh, no Sarah, you’re fine. I’m a little startled, I guess. Please, come in.”

Right now their apartment was pretty bare- Denton got two second hand chairs and a small table for the main area. Two cots were shoved into the second room along with an old metal frame washbasin (Katherine did not want to think about how she was going to have a full body bath). A small stove was shoved into the left-hand corner of the main room, the one piece of furniture that came with the apartment. Katherine had only made a few halfhearted attempts to light it. The rest were crates, holding clothes and books.

“Wow, you did a really good job of cleaning this place! It was crazy when the Feinstein’s were living here, they had nine kids, and I’m pretty sure the grandmother was staying with them too before she died.”

Katherine shrugged. “It wasn’t too bad when we moved in. We were mostly cleaning up dust.”

“Is your family nearby? I’d love to meet them.” Sarah put the kugel on the kitchen table and stretched out in one of the chairs.

“It’s just me and my cousin right now.” Think quick Katherine, think quick. “Everyone else...is in Cincinnati. They moved there a couple weeks ago.”

To Katherine’s relief, Sarah only nodded. “Oh yeah, Cincinnati. There’s a lot of work out there. That’s gotta be tough though, leaving you all alone.”

Katherine shrugged. “I like my freedom. And there’s a lot room to breathe when it’s just me and him sharing a space.”

“Ugh, don’t I know that feeling. It’s tough enough trying to fit five people into two rooms. How many siblings do you got?”

“Six.” Godamnit. She was giving herself away more and more every day. Katherine jutted her eyes around the room, trying to think of an excuse to get Sarah to leave. Not that she wanted her to leave. But being around Sarah felt riskier and riskier by the moment. What was it about this girl that made Katherine want to blab her entire life story?

Sarah gave an easy laugh. “Wow, you win. I think people should get some kind of award if you’ve had to deal with over five. I know my mom really wanted a big family for a while, but…that really wasn’t in the cards for us. And honestly, I’m kind of grateful things worked out that way. I can barely deal with two brothers as it is.”

Katherine shrugged. “I think people just adapt to what they’re given. I feel like if I had only two brothers six would be intimidating to me too. Sort of like when I see families of twelve.”

Sarah raised her eyebrow and gave a little grin. “Ooo, that’s very wise of you, Miss Siegel. I’m impressed. Hey, wait-! Is that a Twain?” She pointed to one of Denton’s half opened crates.

Katherine peered over the table. “Oh! Um, I’m not sure. All that stuff’s my cousin’s. He’s, uh…going to night school. Sometimes. When he’s not working. Which he is. Right now.”

 Sarah thankfully seemed to be too distracted to hear what Katherine was saying.

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Oh, I guess.” Where’s the harm in that, right?

“Thanks.” Sarah darted over to the crate and began to dig through it. She picked up a Twain volume and began to flip through its pages. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this, it’s so hard to find good books to read these days. Most of the second-hand stuff they sell around here is in Yiddish, and I can only half read that. But Mark Twain, he’s the best! Everyone talks about the ones he wrote with the boys and the whitewashing and stuff, but his travel books are really the best. Especially the ones where he goes Europe.”

Katherine’s interest peaked. “When did you read Twain?”

Sarah didn’t look up from the book. “Back when I was in school. I know he’s written more recent stuff, I just can’t get my hands on it.” She closed the volume and gave a small laugh.

“When David started high school, I tried to convince him to steal some for me. I even bribed him with my allowance. He wouldn’t budge though. Said that stealing was wrong, something about his permanent record.” She rolled her eyes. “As if the school would ever notice if one or two of their paperbacks go missing. Schools have plenty of books, he’d be doing a favor by taking a few of them off their hands.”

It never occurred to Katherine before that Sarah had had a life before the factory. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you in school for?”

Sarah gave a small sigh and put the book back in the crate. She walked back over to the table and flopped in the open seat beside Katherine. “I was fourteen. It was inevitable, most of the girls in my class were gone by that point. And there weren’t too many options for high school. There are what, two religious schools? And of course they’re all boys. David actually goes to the next district over for high school. It was…tough for a while, watching him leave every morning.”

She began to trace the outline of the table with her finger. “My parents argued over it a lot. It all came down to money at the end of the day. We needed it, and if was between me and my brother, well…” She gave a small shrug. “My dad gave this whole explanation about men’s colleges and how they wouldn’t accept gaps in education the way a women’s would but… I knew. I knew. So I did lacework with my mom ‘til I got sick of being inside all day, and then got the job at the factory. I honestly thought taking that job would give me more freedom but…yeah. It hasn’t really turned out the way I expected. How old were you when you left?”

The question took Katherine aback. “Oh, me? Um, same as you. I was fourteen too.” Her insides twisted together the moment she told the lie.

Sarah reached across the table and squeezed Katherine’s hand. “It’s tough sometimes, huh? You feel trapped, like you’re stuck doing the same thing every day and it’s never gonna get better.”

Sarah let go and stretched her arms over her head, leaning back in her seat. “Or one day you’ll get married and you’ll be stuck doing the same thing every day, only now with a bunch of kids hanging on your skirts. Makes you wish you were man sometimes, you know?”

“My life would be ten times easier if I were a man.” That came out sounding a lot angrier than Katherine had intended it to. She quickly rescinded in her seat, blushing deeply.

That was the most honest thing she told Sarah all evening.

Sarah leaned forward. “How so?”

“When I see Den- my cousin, I mean, doing something I that I know I could do…. hell, something I know I could do better than he could, I get so bitter. And I don’t mean too, I know I should feel happy for him…but it hurts. I just know if I was a man, I’d be getting the same opportunities as him. Maybe even better. It just…it frustrates me.”

There was a moment of silence between the two girls, where they each wanted to say something but weren’t sure how to begin. The quiet palpitated between them. Then Sarah spoke.

“Wait, your cousin? You said he’s working tonight, right?”

“…Yes?”

 “So you’re here all alone?”

Katherine sat up a little straighter. “Oh, well, I guess…”

Sarah jumped out of her seat, almost knocking the chair back. “Why don’t you come eat with my family? We’d be happy to have you!”

“What? Oh no, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Katie, it’s not a problem at all. Mom always makes extra in case someone visits. Just put your kugel in the ice box and come with me. We live right under you.”

Katherine’s gut gave another twist. “Are you sure?”

“Come one, we’re neighbors now. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

* * *

 

There was a good twenty-five seconds of pure panic that ran through Katherine’s mind as she followed Sarah down the rickety stairs. She was supposed to be keeping a low profile; doing the bare minimum at work, giving out as little information as possible, and in general keep people off her back. A week into the job and she had managed to fail all three of these rules.

Now she was going to meet Sarah’s family. At this rate the whole neighborhood was going to know her face.

“You don’t need to worry about introducing yourself, I’ve already told them all about you. Mom will probably ask how your fingers are doing- Oh! we’ve got extra gauze if you need it!”

The two of them stopped at the second to last door in the hallway, marked by a copper mezuzah tilted sideways on the door frame. Sarah kissed her pointer and index fingers together and held them gently up to the case. Then she pushed through the door, with Katherine following sheepishly behind her.

“Mama, you’ll never guess who our new neighbor is!”

“Sholem Aleichem? President McKinley? I would like clues, please.” The responding voice had a lilt to it that Katherine now recognized as Polish. Almost like Shayna’s. It belonged petite woman stood by the stove, her curly dark blonde hair coiled into a thick braid and positioned into a bun at the nape of her neck. She looked up from the large pot she was stirring.

“Are you the new neighbors? Where’s the rest of you?”

Sarah put a reassuring arm on Katherine’s shoulder. “It’s just Katie, Mama. She’s by herself, I thought she could eat with us tonight.”

Mrs. Jacobs raised an eyebrow. “Katie? The one with the fingers?”

Katherine held up her right hand somewhat apologetically and gave what she hoped was a winning grin. “Uh… That’s me.”

Mrs. Jacobs’ face instantly softened. “Oh, you poor thing! Yes, yes, of course you can eat with us. I’ll add another onion to pot, we’ll need some more water, David-?”

Katherine noticed a teenage boy sitting at the kitchen table. He held a thick textbook in his hand, and two more were towering beside him, fighting for space on the small surface with several long strands of unfinished lacework. He looked up from his book with an expression of half surprise, half pure anxiety.

“Yes Mama?”

“Get some water from the hallway, I need to warm it up so it can be added to the soup.”

David grabbed a bucket that sat at the foot of the stove. He gave a slight nod to Katherine and Sarah as he maneuvered his way around them and several chairs, making his way to the door.

“And say hello to our guest! I raised a gentleman, yes? Act like one please.”

A slight blush crept onto David’s cheeks. He paused and gave another nod to Katherine.

“Hello.”

Katherine tried to give another smile. “Hi, I’m Katie.”

David looked like he was about to respond, then thought better of it and jutted through the door.

Sarah turned to Katherine. “Don’t mind David, he’s just forgotten how to be social. He’s stuck in that goy school all day, reading these tombs.” She gave the textbook stack a hollow knock.

Mrs. Jacobs looked up from the onion she was chopping. “Don’t make fun. Your brother works very hard at school.”

“Yeah, and it’s turning him into a hermit.”

Taking in the Jacobs’ apartment, Katherine realized that they essentially had the same layout as the one she had upstairs. Two rooms, one slightly smaller than the other, and a small stove stationed at the side. But the Jacobs’ place was obviously more lived in; along with the table and several chairs, a neatly made bed sat by the window. Katherine could see a stack of dime novels shoved underneath it, along with a ratty baseball glove and several pairs of worn shoes. Dishes and other kitchenware were stacked above the stove, and a large metal basin was placed covertly beside it. Katherine wondered if they used to take baths. Maybe they’d let her borrow it if she asked…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sarah’s voice

“Where’s Les?”

Mrs. Jacobs was now gathering up the lace pieces and putting them in the hamper. “He’s outside playing. You should probably call him in soon, I don’t want him all worked up at the table.”

Sarah nodded, and went over to the large, four pane window. She climbed onto the bed, getting a chagrined “Sarah!” from David, who had just re-entered the room, and opened the window with a single pull. She leaned out onto the fire escape and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“LES! GET IN HERE! SUPPER’S ON!”

“So much yelling, why is there so much yelling? How did I get blessed with children with such healthy lungs?”

A tall middle-aged man now stood in the doorway. His accent denoted foreigner, but his handlebar mustache and bowler hat were quintessentially American. His fist was grasped tight around a brown paper bag, and he smelled of something strong and distinct. Tobacco? Definitely tobacco.

Mrs. Jacobs gave him a quick peck on the lips as she wiped her hands on her apron. “I was hoping they wouldn’t keep you too late.”

“The foreman let us leave early. Probably wanted to get to the salons as soon as they opened. I swear, he could drink a whole army under a table. Men who drown their problems in liquor don’t realize their problems know how to swim! Remember that, David!”

“I’ll remember, Papa.” David was once again at the table, head absorbed in his book. The man turned to put away hat on a nearby hook and almost bumped into Katherine, who was trying to take up as little space as possible on the right side of the room. Expecting him to be angry, Katherine was shocked when instead he looked pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, hello there. Who are you?”

Sarah was now setting up bowls on the other side of the room “This is Katie, Papa. She just moved into the Feinstein place. We work together.”

Mr. Jacobs reached out his hand. “Katie? Fingers Katie?”

Katherine grinned and gingerly shook it. “The one and only.”

 Just then she heard another creak coming from the doorway.

“I’M HOOME!” A little boy now rushed into the apartment, causing the energy to wind up in the small room like a tornado. In one hand he held a stick, and in the other a small ball that seemed to be stitched together with several different cloths. He bounded over to David, giving him a quick noogie on the head, then tossed the items underneath the bed, creating a small thud when the stick hit one of the books.

“Les, we have a guest!” Sarah admonished.

Les stuck out his tongue at his sister and turned to Katherine.

“Hi! I hope you don’t eat too much!”

Mrs. Jacobs shot her son a dangerous look. “Les, be a good neighbor. There’s always enough to go around.”

“But I wanna six feet by the time I’m David’s age, and I can’t do that if someone else is hogging all the food!”

“Don’t worry Les, you’ll always be a shrimp. David sucked up all the height genes, you’ll be lucky if you surpass me.” Sarah ruffled her brother’s head and mouthed _‘I’m Sorry’_ to Katherine as she passed.

Les’ eyes widened. “That can’t be true. David, tell her it’s not true!”

David was attempting to fit his textbooks underneath the bed. “You won’t know until you’re older Les. I didn’t start growing until I was thirteen.” He gave the books a final shove and pulled himself up onto his feet. “Anyway, you don’t want to get too tall. Growth spurts are the worst, my pants didn’t fit for three years.” Subconsciously he tugged on one of his pant legs and blushed again.

Satisfied with the answer, Les pointed to his father’s hand. “What do you have in the bag, Papa?”

Mayer grinned and unfolded the top, letting Les peek inside. “Challah. I got one of the last loaves before the bakery closed.”

Mrs. Jacobs beamed. “Isn’t that a surprise…wait, what time is it?”

Mr. Jacobs checked his pocket watch. “Nearly 7:15.”

Mrs. Jacobs peaked out the window. “That means we’ll have sundown in a little while. Why don’t I get the candles out? We can make a full Shabbos meal out of it!”

Her husband shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It’s been, what? Three weeks? Four?”

“We did it last spring when Bubbe came over for Mama’s birthday. And before that it was because the Rubin’s were staying with us when their pipe broke.” Sarah was now placing spoons beside each bowl.

“Well, look! We have a guest tonight! Katie, does your family observe the sabbath?”

Katherine felt the air sucked out of her lungs. All eyes were on her. “Oh… well, not too often…my father’s always working, it’s hard enough to eat together as a family most of the time…” She trailed off, hoping that would suffice.

“All the more reason to do it then! It’s your first night in this building, we should make it special.”

Mrs. Jacobs had a smile that reminded Katherine of when her mother was planning a brunch for the Ladies’ Society; enthusiastic, and ready to hurdle any barrier it took to get to her goal. It was hard to say no to a face like that.

David looked out the window. “If we want to do it we better get set up now. The sun’s getting pretty low.”

Esther put two candlesticks down with a sort of definiteness to it. “See! We’re ready to go! Sarah, put the challah on something nice.”

Sarah shrugged and took a folded up blue cloth from the cabinet. She whispered to Katherine as she passed. “Hope you don’t mind. This is really important to my mom, we don’t get to do it too often.”

“Of course, it’s fine.” Katherine wondered what she had just gotten herself into yet again.

The candles were now lit, and Mrs. Jacobs put a bottle of wine and a thick goblet onto the table. Everyone was standing. Katherine held her breath, unsure of what would happen next and terrified she would get something wrong. This was another test, she could just feel it. The best thing she could do right now was stand back and watch; If she messed anything up, she could excuse it with exhaustion from work. Which was partially true.

Mrs. Jacobs’ eyes were closed, and she moved her hands over the candles in a curved, swaying motion. She then cupped her hands over her eyes and began to sing.

This was a different language. Not Polish, but definitely not Yiddish. It took Katherine a moment to realize she was praying. Sing-praying, now there was a novel concept. She was so enthralled by the action she almost didn’t notice the older woman pouring the wine into the goblet and holding it above the table. She then started another prayer. Everyone’s heads were bowed. The silence seemed to weigh on Katherine like a warm blanket, lulling her into a sense of mental comfort. For the first time all week, Katherine was truly relaxed.

The cup was being passed around, and everyone took a sip from it.  Then finally Mrs. Jacobs picked up the challah, which Sarah had placed under the blue napkin. She sang one last prayer, and then ripped off a part of the bread and passed it around in a similar manner to the cup. The family began to sit and Sarah gathered the bowls and started pouring soup into each of them with a ladle.  

The silence had broken, and Katherine could feel the energy in the room go back to normal.

“So Katie, Sarah tells me your surname is Siegel. That’s a good German name, we don’t get too many of those around here.” Mr. Jacobs was now passing the filled bowls to his left. Katherine took one and gratefully dug in.

“My father’s actually Austrian.” Shit. Why did she let that spill? How many stupid mistakes could she make in one night?

Mr. Jacobs threw his head back and laughed. “Of course! Austrian! How could I have not guessed?”

“Mayer says he can always tell.” Mrs. Jacobs was grinning. “He says he knew I was from Poland the minute he saw me. He was so, pre- what’s that word David?”

“Presumptuous?” David guessed.

“Yes, that one! I got so mad I told him I was Russian, just so he’d be less smug.”

Katherine laughed. “I’m impressed, most people never guess at all.”

“It’s the German in me, I can’t help it. We’re all born snobs, even us Jews. Maybe even especially us, since we’re usually the ones who get judged first. The smallest assumptions used to bother me as a boy, that we’re all peddlers or that we all work in textiles….”

“Some of us do work in textiles, Papa.”  

There was an awkward silence at the table. Mr. Jacobs paused to mop his mustache with his napkin then patted Sarah’s hand reassuringly.

“Only for now. Once Broadwell finally gives me that promotion we’ll be set for the next few years. You can go back to school, and your mother- “

“Can finally sleep in?” Mrs. Jacobs was smiling mischievously.

Everyone laughed and the tension was cleared from the room again.

“Broadwell?" Katherine asked, "the cigar company?”

Mr. Jacobs nodded. “That’s the one. I’ve been working there since Les was born.”

“I'm ten!” Les piped in with a proud grin on his face.

Sarah rolled his eyes. “He’s nine.”

“He’ll be ten in two months.” David supplied as he passed the challah to his mother.

 "And becomes a bigger pain every day." Les stuck his tongue at his sister for the second time that night.

"You two, no fighting! We have guest, yes? You need to stop- David, what's that word, with an 'A'? Antag-?" Mrs. Jacobs scrunched up her face in recollection. 

"Antagonize?" 

"Yes! You two need to stop antagonize each other!"

* * *

 

As the evening winded down, Sarah offered to walk Katherine back to her apartment. Mrs. Jacobs had given her a stiff hug along with the rest of the challah and an invitation to come by soon. 

"And if you have no one for the high holiday, please, come and join us. You can go to our synagogue." 

Katherine had not expected to receive this much generosity on her first day. She also didn't expect to feel so full. She wished she was a bear; stuffed with vegetable soup and challah and ready to sleep for the next six months. Her eyes were heavy and her head kept bobbing over like a broken toy about to snap. 

When the two girls got to the upstairs apartment a dull light was peeking out from under the door. Denton must have gotten back a little while ago. 

"Oh no, I forgot to leave a note for Bryan. He must be furious right now."  
  
Sarah scrunched up her face. " _Bryan_? What is it with your family and these goy names?"

Katherine was not ready to tell yet another semi lie tonight. "That's gotta be a question for our folks. Speaking of folks, your family's great. I really felt at home tonight."

Sarah gave a small laugh and brushed her hair back. "We try. My mom means it though. If you ever need anything or want to stop by, just let me know. We always need more girls around here." She gave a quick look over to the door. " _Bryan_ is welcome too, of course."

There was a pause, and the two girls found themselves once again standing in silence, a quiet tension palpitating between them. Katherine wanted to reach out to Sarah. To touch her. To be held by her. To kis-

Before Katherine could think any further Sarah had leaned over and given her a quick peck on the cheek. Then, with a shaky wave, she bounded down the stairs, not looking back behind her. 

Katherine walked into the apartment in a daze. 

"There you are! I was wondering where you ran off to! I was ready to call the police, Katherine!" Denton's hair was askew, and he looked like he had been pacing the floor for some time.

Katherine was barely hearing what he said. Her body felt like mush, and her mind was spinning like a runaway carousel. 

"Well?" Denton was now standing in front of he, very much the disappointed parent, with his hands on his hips. "Where were you? What were you doing tonight?"

"Denton-" Katherine spoke as if she was just discovering her voice for the first time. "You wouldn't believe it even if I told you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they were NEIGHBORS (oh my god they were neighbors).
> 
> Also, you know that feeling when you realize you've gotten in way over your head and you just know you're gonna mess it up no matter how much you try? Yeah, this was me writing this chapter. Writing the shabbos dinner as a very much not Jewish person was three days of research for a passage that only ended up being two paragraphs. So am I out of my league here? Absolutely. But I feel like it would be worse if I completely erased the Jacobs' Jewishness or the Jewishness of the girls working in the textile industry. So if I get anything wrong, please let me know. I'd love to have a beta that could review my stuff for accuracy before sending it into the big, wide world. 
> 
> Comments, as always, give me life <3 <3 <3


End file.
